


Gold Rush

by GoofyGodTier (johnfightmelaurens)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:43:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnfightmelaurens/pseuds/GoofyGodTier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider is kicked out of his apartment at the tender age of 17 when he tells his bro that he's gay. He then proceeds to hop from one friend's house to the next until he finds the right fit for now.</p><p>More relationships to be announced as the story prgresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Dave Strider, age 17, and your brother totally over reacted.

He kicked you out, though this was Texas and shouldn't have been a surprise. With all of his puppet snuff films, you would've thought he was an open minded person and wouldn't kick you out and onto the streets when you told him you were gay. That sort of stuff wasn't cool. You two were bros (literally) and that sort of thing was just rude.

You’re just lucky Bro's too lazy to call up the phone company to turn your phone off. So you've got your phone and your ironic as fuck Dora backpack stuffed full of one change of clothes, three pairs of boxers, four pairs of socks, and as much of your technological devices and wires that you could shove into it. You had to leave your turntables and computer behind, but miraculously you’d found time to transfer just about all of your half mixed tracks, documents with half written raps, and all of your amateur photography onto a removable hard drive that was currently wrapped in your pair of Dora boxers for protection.

And before you go any further with your story, anything relating to that five year old Mexican girl whose parents let her run around everywhere in the middle of nowhere teaching children Spanish with the aid of her monkey pal is ironic as fuck so shut up.

Your good camera is hanging off your neck. You don’t know the make and model of the damn thing but you do know that it is a Nikon DSLR and that it has a damn good lens that you take damn good care of because that shit is expensive. You haven’t been taking any pictures really. Not recently at least. The only time you’d ever taken pictures for anyone was when Rose asked you for some professional photography of something, you can’t remember. All you remember is that you had told her that your photography is shit but she kept begging you and finally convinced you to take the damn pictures for her. When you sent them to her over pesterchum, she was ecstatic and didn’t stop thanking you for weeks.

There are literally Starbucks everywhere in Houston and that’s your first stop once you’re out of the house. You managed to snag about a thousand bucks out of the futon where Bro sleeps before you left so you had some money to go off of. Settling into the plush chairs at the coffee shop with your venti-something-way-to-sweet-to-be-considered-coffee and your scone, you pull out the laptop that you had barely gotten into the backpack. You normally used your desktop computer, but now that you were homeless a laptop was a more practical decision.

You logged onto the free wifi of either the coffee shop or maybe the one next door, it doesn’t really matter, and looked to see who was online. No one really. You started looking up bus and train schedules, trying to decide where you want to go. Maybe LA, you get your rap career started, but you’re not sure if anyone of your pals live there.

Your phone rings and you quickly pull it out of your pocket. You answer with a quiet, “Sup?” You hadn’t even thought to see who it was that was calling.

“Hey, Dave!” Egbert’s cheery voice greets your ears.

“Oh, hey, Egbert,” you drawl and shut the computer. There’s a bus that’ll take you to the train station or something. Maybe hitch hiking is more your thing. You want to hang onto your money as long as possible.

“How’s it going?” There’s a worried edge to John’s voice and that causes you to worry a bit too.

“Egbert, cut to the chase. You don’t just call up your best bro for no reason whatsoever with worry laced in your voice like pot laced in brownies.”

He’s taken aback and you let yourself smirk a little. “Your bro pestered me ten minutes ago. With your handle and it was really weird. He said that you had ran away and I don’t know. I got worried so I called you.”

You sigh slightly. “He kicked me out. I told the dude I’m gay and he told me I wasn’t allowed to live under his roof. I’m homeless now.”

John’s quiet and you regret being so blunt about it. Maybe if you had sugarcoated it he would’ve taken it better. “Brb!” he says quickly and hangs up. John was the only person you knew that would literally say ‘brb’ in a real conversation. You wait five then ten minutes for John to call you back, sipping your drink slowly and nibbling on the scone. You probably look like a huge prick or douche or whatever sitting there with your shades, five dollar coffee, and your fancy shmancy camera like you’re some rich asshole who’s just here for kicks.

Your phone eventually rings again, but it’s not John this time. It’s Terezi.

“Hey cool kid!” she practically screeches into the phone and laughs. You roll your eyes.

“Hey, Terezi. What’s new in DC? Any big cases you’re following?”

Terezi lived in Washington DC or at least around that area. She was obsessed with following all the court cases that made it to the Supreme Court and likely knew every detail of them all. She claimed that one day, she was either going to be a Supreme Court judge or whoever those people are that shout “Objection!” She was blind, yes, but she claimed that her loss of eyesight was made up for in clear view of justice, whatever she meant by that.

“Of course, but that’s not why I’m calling!”

“Did John spill the beans?”

“Duh! I hear you’re looking for a place to stay. There’s me and Rose up here, but most of everyone else is on the west coast. Might wanna try rooming with some of them.”

“That’s the first useful piece of advice I’ve gotten all day. Thanks, TZ.”

“Your welcome, cool kid!” she cackles before hanging up.

You set your phone down and nibble on the end of your scone as you look out the window at civilization. Maybe going west will help you. You’ll be closer to LA, but something tells you that you really don’t want to be doing rap forever. Sure it’s fun, but you haven’t been into it recently. You haven’t been into anything recently. Life was just throwing fast ball after fast ball your way and you were hitting them with ease. This was the first curveball in a while and well, a guy gets inspired. 

You start to drum your fingers on the table and pick out a beat that you can work with. Words are swimming in your head and you’re just picking out the very best ones. Images are flying through too. It was weird, being so inspired and full of creativity after such a long dry spell that left you with raps about cheese dip and pictures of trees. 

You only stop drumming your fingers and humming softly when your phone rings again. This time it was Egbert. Finally.

“Hey, Dave! I, uh, sorry I took so long calling you back. I was just busy! You can check email on your phone right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good! I sent you something.”

“Give me a sec to see what it is then,” you say before he has a chance to speak up again. You pull the phone away from your ear and quickly open the email app on your wonderfully amazing iPhone. You look at the most recent emails and open the one that reads “OPEN MEEEEE DAVE!” Cute.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting the email to read, but you definitely were not expecting a list of everyone you talked to on a regular basis’s addresses and phone numbers in one easy place. Only Rose, Jade, John, and Terezi had your cell number and they were the only people who’s number you had too. But now, looky here, you had Sollux (San Jose, CA), Vriska (Helena, Montana), Tavros and Gamzee (South Lake Tahoe, CA), Aradia (Flagstaff, AZ), plus everyone else. This was… Possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you.

You put the phone back up to your ear and inhaled slowly. “Woah, thanks man.”

John just laughs. “You’re welcome! Everyone’s pretty worried about you, except for Karkat and Eridan I guess, but that’s just cuz they’re prideful! I bet they’re worried about you too. So, I gotta go, but if you need anything else, text me! Use your list for good, Dave. Not evil! Bye!”

And with that he hung up. Looking over the list again, you came to the conclusion that Flagstaff, Arizona was going to be your first stop. Now, you just needed to call up Aradia and figure out how you were going to get there.

But first you were going to take some pictures to remember Houston by.

And maybe to burn later when your heart began to ache.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave goes to Aradia's via hitchhiking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was definitely written for Haiden and Kelsie who are absolutely the best at getting me out of my slumps. I love you guys!

You talk to Aradia over the phone and maybe a little excitement blossoms in your chest. She was nice and very willing to lend you her spare room. You’re doing it. You’re leaving Houston. You’re leaving your life. Sure you had friends here, but it’s Texas. Super conservative, Republican, anti-abortion and birth control, pro-capital punishment Texas. You couldn’t go, “Oh, hey, Matt. Mind if I crash here for a bit because my bro kicked my faggot-ass out?”

You know what the answer would be.

“May the power of Christ compel you!” and then back to the streets with you.

But your internet brothers (and sisters, you guess) were a pretty open-minded bunch. Last year, Kanaya worked up the courage to tell everyone in your little group that she was a lesbian and after the initial shock, everyone was totally cool with it. When she got her first girlfriend, everyone congratulated her and demanded pictures. While their relationship didn’t last very long and was really more of a silly fling, everyone treated Kanaya like the way she ought to be treated: like she was normal. And that’s what really counted.

Now if you’re talking about Kanaya’s love life, it only seems fair to talk about yours. To be honest, you had a bit of a crush on Rose’s current boy toy: John. Okay, boy toy is kind of mean, but still. Rose is dating John. Sure, it’s a long distance relationship (seeing as he’s in Washington and she’s in New York), but it works. John says they video chat a lot (more than the two of you do, which is a lot) and boy, the kid looks like he’s in love.

You never had a chance with him anyway. When you all were 13, Karkat had a crush on him or something and bam! John Is Not A Homosexual: Available in theaters near you.

Now you caught your crush when you could still crush it. Smash it. Decrease it to nothing. It was still there, that little pang in your heart when you thought about him or when you heard his voice, but you’d come to terms with the fact that the kid was not a homosexual.

You were pretty much over him these days. The pang was less and less. You’d never tell him about the crush and he would never know. It was nothing now. Easy. No need for John Is Not A Homosexual 2: The Musical.

And no, you don’t need any sympathy because of your goddamn unrequited, schoolyard crush. You’ll find someone else. It’s just a fucking crush. Nothing is set in stone.

When you started your journey from Houston to Flagstaff, you had no idea it was going to be this hard to hitchhike. Maybe it was the Dora backpack, but that’s just because some of these drivers must be racists or some shit. You do get picked up a few times by, well, mostly men. Sometimes they engage you in conversation and sometimes they just leave you alone after asking your name and destination. You’re just a kid in their eyes after all and you’re not reeking of marijuana so they at least trust you not to pull a knife on them. Plus you’re using a god damn Dora backpack. You just radiate mental disability.

A few times when the drivers eventually kicked you out of their vehicles, they left you at a diner or a McDonalds or something with a twenty in your hand. One guy who was rather chatty actually had dinner with you at the diner he was leaving you at. He talked a lot about his wife and kids and how you looked a lot like his youngest son so he just had to give you a lift. That… made you smile a little to be honest. This was a good guy. And he was such a good guy that he paid for your create-a-face pancakes.

When you’re dropped off at a diner that is reasonably close to your final destination, you give Aradia a call and she offers to come pick you up. Immediately you agree and soon enough you’re clambering into her car while avoiding her curious gaze at your backpack. You adjust your shades and she crinkles her nose.

“Have you showered since you left Houston?” she asks, a little bluntly.

You shrug. “Nope. Haven’t changed clothes in a while and my phone is barely on. I kept it off till I was in the neighborhood and gave you a call.”

“Nasty,” she murmurs. “But understandable. You’re taking a shower when we get to my house and I have to warn you, I can’t be a permanent residency for you. My dad is sort of protective, I guess. So you need to move on after a few days. I’m sorry I can’t really help much.”

You gaze out the car window lazily at the setting sun. “It’s cool. Fef is my next stop and I’ll crash there for a while and then I’ll crash at Kanaya’s pad then work my way north. John’s my final stop.”

She nods. “He’ll take you in and his dad will probably let you stay for a while. Sounds like a good plan. But, when we get back to my house, you are going to bath and then your clothes are getting washed. I’m sorry to say that the only shampoo, conditioner, and body wash that is currently in the house are all strawberry scented. So you’ll smell nice when you’re done.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s the irony that counts and Dave Strider smelling like a strawberry field is pretty ironic if you ask me.”

“Is that why you have a Dora the Explorer backpack? For the ironies?”

“Exactamundo, princess.”

When you do get to Aradia’s house, she leads you up to the front door. She tells you her dad works late so you should have plenty of time to shower without having to worry about walking into him while you’re in nothing but a towel. She shows you to the guest room which seems to be in a modified garage where there’s a bedroom, bathroom, and a large coat closet or whatever. She sets you up in the guest bedroom (where you admire the bold choice for red walls) and you immediately plug in your phone and laptop. Both need to charge. You dump the measly contents of the Dora backpack onto the bed and pull out the dirty clothes so they can get washed. 

Aradia steps into the room after leaving to get you a fresh towel and a bathrobe so you could give her the clothes currently on your back to get washed because yeah, they stink and so do you. She turns her back to you as you start to quietly strip and replace your old clothes with the bathrobe.

“Done,” you mutter and move your shoes into the corner of the room. You shades are still on your face, but that’s just because you don’t want Aradia thinking you’re more of a freak than she already does by seeing your red eyes.

“Ready?” she asks as she turns around again, her long tan skirt swishing slightly. It goes well with her dark red v-neck she’s currently wearing and her tan skin. Wow. You just totally went fashion designer gay for a second there.

“Yep,” you answer and she leads you to the closet bathroom, pointing out the shampoo and conditioner you can use and that yes, those are brand new disposable razors on the counter, feel free. Right before she leaves you to shower, she tries to meet your shaded eyes and even through the shades, you can tell that they are a reddish brown.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” she says with a smile, imitating a clerk at a hotel.

“Course I will. Now get your ass out of the bathroom so I can shower in peace, woman.”

She leaves you alone and you lock the bathroom door just in case before you shrug off the robe and remove your shades. Running a hand through your hair leaves it feeling greasy and dirty and the thought of a shower immediately becomes the most attractive thing you’ve seen in weeks (minus that one busboy who was just sex on legs). You start up the shower and wait for the water to get to temperature. You like it hot.

That’s what she said, the voice in the back of your head whispers and you smirk.

As you wait for the shower to heat up, you run your hand over your chin. There’s definitely some stubble on your chin so you’re in need of a shave. You take one of the razors and place it in the shower so you can use it. There’s a small mirror on the wall and there’s shaving cream next to the shampoo.

Finally the water is up to temperature and you step in. You’re immediately overwhelmed with just how badly you needed this and stand there motionless under the water for what feels like ages; just letting the water rush over you. You eventually wet your hair and run the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner through it a few times (seven to be perfectly honest). You also wash your body with the strawberry body wash a few times (only three this time) and shave. When you get out, you feel refreshed and clean and happy that you’re actually going to be spending the night in a bed instead of on a bench or in the corner of a 24-hour diner.

You towel dry your hair once you’re out of the shower before wrapping the towel around your waist and slipping your shades back on. In passing, you notice all the freckles that litter your shoulders and chest, up the sides of your neck, and onto your cheeks. Huh.

You eventually leave the bathroom and head to the guest room where a dark grey t-shirt and a pair of light blue sweats right next to them. You had avoided wearing your last pair of boxers so you immediately pull those on before the foreign pieces of clothing. They’re comfortable and nice. You sit yourself down on the bed and pick up your phone. A few texts from John and Jade and a missed call or two from Rose and Terezi. You read over the texts and listen to the voicemails before sending the four of them a confirmation that you’d been picked up by the first of your many landlords and that you hadn’t been knifed.

There’s a soft knock at the door as you set your phone down and you pick up the camera, skillfully turning it on and adjusting it to the lighting and the like of the room. “Come in.”

Aradia steps inside and you notice that she’s changed her clothes. Instead of her long tan skirt and deep red blouse, she’s in a simple rust-colored nightgown with her hair up in a ponytail. You snap a few quick pictures, just to document the journey.

She doesn’t say anything about the pictures you take and comes to sit beside you on the bed. She offers you a smile and you return it with a half-smirk. “Sup?”

“That’s how a Strider says hello, I take it,” she murmurs. “Pictures and a ‘sup’. But before I forget to mention this, your clothes will be done in an hour and if you’re hungry, just tell me and I’ll find something for you. And Dave, we’re all here for you, just like we were there for Kanaya.”

You nod, but don’t really say anything. Aradia seems to understand that this silence doesn’t mean you’re awkward or that you don’t have anything to say. She seems to understand that just hearing those words made you a little stronger and that while your bro kicked you out, she was going to be here with open arms for as long as she could be.

Aradia is… Absolutely great and probably the best first stop on your journey to feel like you belong, mainly because you feel like you belong here. She’s given that to you.

But the sad part of your story is that you’re also looking for love and a permanent residency and she can’t give you either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally got this chapter done and I am more than happy with it! I hope you all liked it and it seems that I will be alternating between updates of this fanfic and my other fanfic, This Is Your Burden so I apologize if it seems like forever for this to update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave goes to Feferi's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is 2,600 words! I'm really proud of that you have no idea.

Aradia’s great and all, but you can’t stay at her place forever. After a few days, she eventually gives you the casual, “So how much longer?” inquiry. You know her dad’s all up on her case about this so you just shrug it off and say, “I’ll be out of your hair by noon.”

And you are. You pack up after making sure everything’s as charged as possible and giving Fef a call along with printing out the Google maps directions to San Diego. Feferi says she’s so excited that you’re coming and even forgets a fish pun or two in all of her excitement.

Once you set off, you let yourself use your phone a little because San Diego is closer to Flagstaff than Houston was. The first thing you do with your phone as you’re walking around with your printed out directions to Fef’s house is call John. He had been bugging you about this whole thing from the start and now you needed to tell him what happened past the initial “Get out.” He’d be asking you soon enough anyway.

He answers the phone with his usual cheerful “Hey, Dave!” and you reply with your usual cool kid “Sup?”

You both ramble on about trivial things for a while and you know this can’t be good for your battery, but you don’t give a flying shit. You’re talking to your best bro in the whole wide world about his shitty movies and your totally rad video games. Not to mention stalling.

After you two bond over whatever the fuck it is spewing from Egbert’s mouth at this point, he quietly brings up your brother. It’s not some big surprise or anything, but he does it so subtly that it does stop your rambling. Though anything out of this guy’s mouth could do that to you.

“What do you want to know about Bro?” you ask him with an edge in your voice as you try to figure out if this is the street you want to turn down or if you’ve got the wrong one.

“I want to know what happened,” he mumbles and yes, this is the right street.

“I said, ‘Hey Bro, this is hard for me to say, but I’m gay.’ and he said, ‘Get out before I do something stupid.’ So I took off like he told me to. Easy as pie.”

“What if... What if that’s not what he meant? What if he didn’t want you to leave?”

“You know what, shut the fuck up, Egbert. Like you know anything about my brother. He means what he says unless there’s some obvious underlying irony in his statement, which there wasn’t mind you, so he wanted me out. I’m some retarded dog to him and he just doesn’t want me.” There’s anger in your voice. A scared kind of anger. You hate that it’s there. You’re Dave Strider and Dave Strider can’t afford to show any emotion. Just like you can not afford to think the way John’s trying to make you think. If you start thinking that way, then you’ll go running home and if Bro isn’t there with open arms, you’ll just end up wasting your time and back to square one on this totally bogus and unironic game board of life.

He’s silent, but you could really care less. You hang up and shut your phone off to save the battery. You’re going to want it later.

John’s words stay in your head as you’re picked up and dropped off by men that are getting progressively older and creepier. One guy actually tries to pay you to suck him off. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about it before saying no. Instead of actually doing it and risking getting gonorrhea or some shit, you told him as smoothly as a Strider could that you didn’t want his wrinkly man bits anywhere close to your mouth. He kicked you out after that.

It’s a little while later that you’re picked up by a young businessman driving to San Diego for, well, business. He’s about twenty or so and hell, he’s attractive. He’s tan and fit with dark hair that reminds you of John’s, what you’ve seen of it at least, and he’s funny too. He cracks jokes the whole time and actually gets you talking. The two of you stop at a diner for dinner and in order to impress him, you refrain from ordering off the kid’s menu.

You expected to be left at the diner as per usual, but after he pays, he stands and says, “Come on.” He’s going to drive you the rest of the way. For some reason, you’ve got butterflies. Cursing under your breath, you follow him back into the car. You’re quiet the rest of the ride and he decides to just keep talking, which is fine by you.

He eventually asks you why you’re hitchhiking and why San Diego. You answer with just, “I don’t have a car or much money.” and “I have a friend there.”

He nods, seeming pleased with your answer and eventually you doze off.

Now, it’d be ironic as fuck if you could say you dreamed of sugar plums and candy, but you didn’t. Your nightmares came back. Your weird as fuck but scary as shit nightmares. John in weird blue pajamas and a fucking ridiculous wind sock for a hood. Rose with black skin and creepy tendrils that look like tentacles. Most of the other guys you talk to online either dead or pretty fucked up with grey skin and candy corn horns. Your bro dying. John dying. Everyone just straight up dying.

The businessman shakes you awake and tells you that you were muttering pathetically in your sleep. You shrug it off and apologize. He doesn’t say anything, but he seems to be an odd combination of worried and amused.

You stay up for the rest of the ride and once inside the San Diego city limits, you turn on your phone. It buzzes for a few moments as it receives the twenty-nine text messages, three voicemails, and five picture messages. Most of them are from John. There’s a couple texts from Rose asking what’s the matter (no doubt John blabbed to her). You ignore her texts and read through John’s. All of them are him constantly apologizing. It’s almost painful to read. The picture messages are of him holding a piece of paper with “I’m sorry” scrawled across it. Cheesy as hell. You take a moment to listen to the voicemails. In the last one, John’s crying; bawling his eyes out. Begging you to forgive him. You feel extremely guilty, but you try not to let it show.

Young and handsome looks at you curiously. “Popular, are we?”

You shake your head. “Nah. I hung up and shut off my phone after an argument with my best friend and it’s been a couple days,” you say like it explains everything ever.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You shrug and select a number from your phone. Hitting the call button, you listen for the girl on the other end to pick up. When she does, she squeals in excitement.

“Dave! Dave, how much longer do I have to wait? I’m so excited!”

“Calm down, Fef. Sheesh. What’s your address?”

Within minutes you have Feferi’s address scrawled across your hand. The young businessman offers to drive you there; it’s on his way. You shrug, why not?

Both of you are quiet as he drives through the suburbs. It’s about eight or nine, you’re too lazy to look at the clock. He eventually pulls into the driveway of a relatively modest two story house. It’s dark outside and you have a hard time distinguishing the color of the house and the cars out front.

“Here we are,” your companion murmurs. You gather up your stuff and send a mass text to all your internet bros saying that you made it to Feferi’s. You send a text to John saying that you forgive his sorry ass. Only one person bothers to reply right away.

“STAY SAFE, ASSHOLE.”

You’re kind of surprised that it’s Karkat who replies, but you a) don’t care and b) don’t see a reason to reply so you just shove the phone into your pocket where it immediately starts buzzing (John, no doubt) and finish pulling your Dora the Explorer backpack onto your back.

“Thanks for the lift, mister,” you say sincerely, something you’ve been doing more and more recently. You start to climb out of the car when he grabs a hold of your wrist to get your attention.

“My name’s Christopher. I enjoyed your company. It’s usually a very lonely drive.”

You nod. “I appreciate your kindness, I guess. Not many people pick up a broke ass kid off the side of the road.”

He chuckles and lets go of your wrist. It tingles a little. “Most broke ass kids aren’t walking around with a Dora backpack and such a confident stride in their step.”

You crack a slight smile. “Well, first of all, that’s because they aren’t Striders and second of all, they wouldn’t know the definition of irony even if it was spoonfed to them like baby food.”

He laughs again and rolls his eyes. “Right, of course. Again, I enjoyed your company. Good bye.”

“Bye.”

And with that, he was gone. Gone forever. That makes it that much easier to get over your little crush and walk up to Feferi’s door and knock.

She answers within moments. She also squeals with excitement and drags you inside. She starts babbling on and on about how excited she is that you’re there. You take this opportunity to ignore her and look around the less than modest decorations that are just about everywhere. Subtly placed, but everywhere. Her family has money.

Now you’re Dave Strider, an ironic gentleman of sorts, so you’re not going to take advantage of her. You’re just going to be her house guest for a little while.

“Let me show you to the guest room!” she says, excited. She’s just so excited, huh?

You nod and she leads you upstairs and into a room much better furnished than your old apartment as a whole. It’s a big room with a giant bed and a large mirror in the corner. There’s a nice desk against another wall and well damn, this place is nice.

“Wow,” you murmur and she tries to be as modest as she can, but her grin is just a little too proud.

She is just a tan ball of excitement. Her brown hair is so curly and poofy and big that you assume it’s the essence of your personality.

“Do you like it? I mean, we can swap out the curtains or-”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to be a problem.”

“Don’t be silly! I want you to be comfortable here!”

You roll your eyes behind your shades. “Fef, I’m fine.”

“Well, just tell me if there’s anyfin I can do for you.

There’s the fish puns. “Can you show me to the bathroom so I can shower? Because smelling like a sweaty old man with lifeless hair is not even close to ironic.”

She giggles and shows you to the bathroom. It’s huge. Absolutely monstrous. There’s a huge jacuzzi tub in the corner and one of those fancy, nozzles fucking everywhere showers. It’s really quite impressive.

“This is the guest bathroom!” she says cheerfully and points out where the shampoo and the like can be found before leaving you to bathe.

And there’s nothing more ironic than a mother fucking bubble bath in a enormous jacuzzi tub thank you very much.

You slide into the foamy water once the tub fills and relax. It’s nice. Calming. So ironic that it’s doing a double reach around to blisteringly ironic once again. You add to the irony by using one of those poofy pink things that you dump soap on and then scrub yourself with it. You clean yourself up and eventually you just close your eyes and relax in the warm water. Your shades are on the counter so you don’t worry about them falling into the water with a splash.

You wish you had scented candles you could light and set the mood with. That’d be really ironic. Maybe some rose petals too. That’d be great. You allow yourself a rare grin at the idea. No one was going to see it, so why hide it? Bro would be proud of your ironic prowess these days.

Just thinking about him makes you sick. You’re not sure why, but you’re pretty sure it’s because he’s the biggest fucking asshole ever. He didn’t have to kick you out. He didn’t have to be a dick. 

You groan. There’s no use mulling over your brother now. It’s pointless. Absolutely no point at all. Now you have a point in your life that when the biographers ask, “When did your life change” that you can point to this point on some timeline and say, “Right there. This is when shit got real.”

And damn straight you’re going to have a biographer. You’re Dave Strider. You’re going to be someone. Be it a rapper, a photographer, hell, a shitty movie director, a professional webcomic artist, a professional gamer. You could be anything.

God that sounds cheesy.

After you finally manage to relax again, you slip out of the tub and wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel. There’s a blow dryer on the counter so you say, “Why the hell not?” and blow dry your hair. It’s amusing how fluffy it makes your blond hair.

You go back to the guest room and get changed into your last clean outfit. You make a mental note to ask Feferi about doing your laundry. Your jeans are at your knees and your shirt is about to get pulled on when it occurs to you to kick them off and just sleep in your boxers. Save the clean clothes for tomorrow.

You set your laptop up to charge along with your phone. You check the texts you’ve received while in the shower. There’s one from Bro. Your breath hitches as you slide into bed. You don’t know what to do, so you delete it. You don’t bother to even look at it. You really don’t need to see what he has to say. There’s a text from John that you read and don’t reply to. He’s just apologizing over and over again and it’s getting old.

Feferi seems to have gone to sleep and you’re quiet. Though why would you be loud in the first place? You pull your laptop onto your lap after settling into the bed. You go on your usual websites and do a pretty decent update of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff that your fans who have been with you for years at this point should just drool over. A small smirk crosses your face in pride of your child, because that’s what this is for you. Your webcomic is like your ironic love child with yourself. A perfect being stuck as picture after picture online.

Eventually though, as great as it is to have your computer back on, you do shut your computer and curl up in bed. It really is comfortable, like a hotel.

As you drift off to sleep you imagine that maybe you are using your friends just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I hope this met expectations! I had fun with this chapter but I can't Feferi very well so sorry if she seems off.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave has a nightmare and then goes to the beach and doesn't get taught how to surf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long to get done! Summer made it hard to write this for some reason but ta da! Gold Rush: Chapter 4!
> 
> This chapter does get a tad NSFW near the end, but it's not that bad since idk how to smut.

Weightlessness. That’s all you feel. That’s all you ever feel during these dreams. You’re always surrounded by nothing but blackness. By nothingness. You’re always consumed with fear. This is how it always starts.

Suddenly film is shooting at you from all directions. Reel after reel comes flying at you. You can see what’s on the reels. Scenes from a past that never happened. Scenes that are so familiar to you, yet they never happened. Scenes that bring you to tears when you see certain ones. Scenes that you’ve lived before, but don’t remember. They all show people and places from your nightmares, which would make sense since this is just another nightmare. All you see are scenes of people dying or places exploding. All of the film is feeding into you, your mind, your memories. All these strangely familiar nightmares haunt you. Some are so gruesome and sick, you can barely keep your stomach from emptying itself. 

They really are terrifying. You're scared and appalled at the images that fly through your mind at night. You can't wake up. You know you're dreaming but you can't wake up and escape from these memories that never happened. You're trapped. Stuck. Paralyzed. It's terrifying. 

Eventually you do wake up panting. You're covered in sweat and you can't get enough air for the life of you. 

When your breath finally returns to normal, you grab your phone and check the time. It's four am. Well, John doesn't need sleep. The kid probably has nap time in the afternoon anyway. 

You call him and wait for him to pick up. You're a little impatient and on edge after the nightmare, but you know he's asleep and you're waking him up. 

His tired voice eventually crackles to life over the phone. Hell, if that isn't the cutest thing you've ever heard. 

"Dave? What's up?"

"I keep having the nightmares," you admit quietly. The two of you have been having nightmares since you were 13. They were similar too. Unnerving as it was, it'd been a secret between the two of you for years. Rose didn't know, and you didn't want her to. If she knew she'd be on your case trying to psychoanalyze every bit of said dreams with her bullshit Fruedian psychology. 

John's quiet on the other end for a short while. "Yeah... Me too..." he murmurs after a little bit. This is what made you fall for him. Wait, did you say "fall"? Nope, it was a crush. Just a crush. You weren't in love with him or anything like that. Not at all...

But anyway, his voice when you two talk about the nightmares is probably what started this little crush of yours. The way he sounds so vulnerable when he's talking about the terrifying dreams has always made you feel special, like you're the only one who gets to hear him like this. 

Neither of you say anything for a while. You just silently listen to each other's breathing. It's comforting.

You're not alone, at least with your dreams. You've got John you can talk to about them. Anyone else would think you’re nuts. Hell, John probably thinks you're nuts anyway, but oh well. He was still your best bro and that wasn't going to change anytime soon. 

“Are you okay?” John murmurs.

“Yeah... What about you?” you murmur back. Truth is, you’re far from okay. You’re a mess inside that cool head of yours. You’re terrified and confused. You’re alone and abandoned. Your brother kicked you out. He fucking kicked you out and you’re expected to be okay? No. Not a chance in hell and these nightmares of yours aren’t helping. You’re jumbled up and it’s getting hard to put on that act of yours, but you’re good at it. You’re good at putting on a flawless mask. You’re good at hiding behind those shades of yours.

“Yeah, I’m okay... So you’re at Fef’s house?”

“Mhm. She wants to teach me to surf.”

“Oh my gosh, you totally should let her teach you!” he says excitedly. His voice is happier than it was a second ago. You’d do anything to be the reason for John’s smile. Anything to make him happy.

“Alright. I will.”

John yawns briefly on the other end of the line. “I’m going to go back to sleep, alright, Dave?”

Your breath catches. You’re not ready to say good bye. You want to keep talking to him. You want to keep listening to his voice.

“Yeah, alright. Night, man.”

“Good night, Dave. Call me if anything else happens.”

“Yeah, got it.”

You hang up and put your phone onto the side table. Sleep isn’t an option at this point. You’re too worked up and freaked out about the dream and the situation you’re in. You can’t sleep at all. Time for another ironic bubble bath.

Whomever first stated that bubble baths were calming, wasn’t lying. It may be four thirty am at this point and everyone in the house is asleep, but bubble baths are nice and quiet, right? 

Right, so that’s your logic for running yet another bath.

This time you add a sage scented bubble bath that you find in the cabinet. Sage smells nice and a sage bubble bath smells even nicer. It’s calming and warm. Better than sleeping, that’s for sure. You move your shades off your face and put them on the side of the tub before dumping your head under the water. It drowns everything out, even the stuff that you didn’t realize you wanted to drown out. It was wonderful. If only you could hold your breath long enough to remain under the water for forever.

Eventually your skin gets all pruny and that shit is not cool so you get out of the tub and go back to bed, drying yourself off and changing into what you’d been wearing before. At this point, your nightmares are as far away from your mind as possible and it’s glorious. No worries about John or anyone else

You slip into bed for what seems like mere moments before Feferi comes barging in with a plate full of food that smells really really good. There’s pancakes and muffins and bacon. 

“Complimentary breakfast in bed!” she sings happily and places the tray across your lap. You offer her slight nod and sit up, grabbing your shades off the side table. She doesn’t need to see how tired you really are. Your eyes are probably the most expressive part of you. They’re the only parts that show what you’re really feeling without your permission.

“Thanks, Fef,” you manage as you pick up a piece of nice and greasy bacon and bite the end of it off. She sits at the foot of the bed and takes one of the many muffins she brought you and starts nibbling on it.

After five strips of bacon, three bites of pancakes, and one muffin, you speak up. “So, do you have any plans for the day? I just need to get my clothes washed. That’s my only need to know because I don’t know if you noticed, not all of my stink last night was me. Most of it was my clothes.”

Fef laughs. She’s still eating her first muffin and wow you kinda eat like a pig. Damn it, Strider. Oh well, she doesn’t seem to mind so you’re fine.

“Well, give them to me in a basket or something and I’ll pass them off to our housekeeper and she’ll wash them. Actually, today why don’t we go to the beach! I’ll buy you some clothes that are beach appropriate because, from what I’ve seen, you don’t have many and I mean this is California! You gotta have style! I could teach you to surf today too!” she gushes and takes a large bite out of her muffin.

You nod. “Gimme a basket and you can teach me whatever I don’t already know. Which includes surfing.”

She laughs and the two of you finish up breakfast in near silence.

She gets you a basket and the housekeeper promises to take good care of the clothes you give her. You nod your thanks and soon Fef is dressed in her bikini under her sorong thing. The both of you slather yourselves in sunscreen before she takes you to the beach in her cute little mini cooper. There’s a bright pink surfboard tied to the roof and the back of the car is full of towels, chairs, and an umbrella for the beach.

First she drives to some sort of boardwalk and well of fucking course you brought your camera. You never got to go to the beach back in Texas so you are going to be damn well sure you get pictures of the beautiful California coast that are in so many movies that would have been a whole lot better if you had been the director and in charge of casting. You’re snapping pictures like crazy of the people and the shops that line the place. You take several of Feferi as she looks back and rolls her eyes at you. “You’re being ridiculous,” her look tells you but you are Dave Strider and you do not give a flying fuck.

She takes you and buys you a pair of swim trunks. You’re very picky about your swim trunks though and get a pair that are mainly black and red with a record on the left hip. They’re pretty cool, though you were very upset when the man running the place told you that they didn’t make Dora the Explorer swim trunks and that if they did they would not be available in your size.

Sexist, ageist prick.

Either way you get to the beach and Feferi sets up a towel and an umbrella to set your stuff and yourself if you so wish. She’s off and playing in the water, taking her surfboard with her. You’re still constantly taking pictures (including a few of Fef surfing) of the beach, the ocean, and the people enjoying their day. You don’t hesitate to snap some pictures of some men that look ridiculously good without their shirts on.

It’s a guilty pleasure. Maybe you’ll get off to them tonight, maybe you won’t. The world is full of mystery.

Feferi doesn’t end up teaching you to surf; she’s too busy showing off and getting many of those guys that you may or may not be masturbating to tonight to compliment her on her skill on a board. She eventually leaves to buy the two of you dinner from a nearby In N Out (the two of you had been too engrossed in your separate pastimes to remember that noon was a time to have a meal) and you wait. She promised that you could stay at the beach so you could photograph the sunset.

She comes back with two burgers, a thing of fries, and two milkshakes for the two of you. You eat your burger without having any fries or any of your milkshake. On principle, those are saved for dessert and so once the burger is gone, you pop off the lid to your milkshake and dip the french fries into the chocolate mixture. Feferi finds your behavior dorky but she starts doing the same with her strawberry shake. Soon enough the two of you are out of french fries and you chug the end of your shake (and proceed to get a pretty nasty brainfreeze) and she sips the end of hers.

Soon after you’re done with your food, the sun starts to set. You wipe your hands off on napkin after napkin so you don’t get nasty fast food grease on your very expensive DSLR camera before picking said camera up and taking pictures of the beautiful sunset. You were definitely going to send some of these to Jade once the day was over.

It gets cold pretty fast and without the sunlight, it’s hard to take pictures. You and Feferi pack up what you used into the car and head back to Fef’s house. She’s gushing about how much fun she had today and you’re nodding along with her. You had a pretty good day today and you got some killer photos out of it. Once at her house, she immediately goes to shower and you head to the guest room.

Your clothes are neatly folded on the edge of the bed and that makes you smile a little. You had clean clothes, a luxury you hadn’t realized was so luxurious until you had trouble getting picked up on the side of the road because you reeked. You move them to the top of the desk and change into a pair of clean boxers. Settling into bed, you pull your laptop on your lap and plug your camera into it, downloading the pictures from it to the computer. It’s done and it appears you took a total of 320 pictures today at the beach.

You set your shades to the side and start flipping through them and edit a couple; fixing the contrast and the exposure little by little until they’re perfect. Soon you’re coming across the pictures that you took of the guys at the beach. The attractive, shirtless, totally hot guys that were at the beach. 

You cross your legs the second you realize that maybe you’re a little aroused by these pictures. That you’re turned on by these incredibly attractive, half naked men...

No, stop. This is totally not okay. Totally not okay to masturbate in your friend’s guest room.

But god those guys were really hot...

You couldn’t stop your hand from travelling south and soon you were slowly stroking yourself, images of these guys floating through your head. Your imagination was running wild with thoughts about how this one’s hand might feel or how that one might kiss.

You shut your eyes, letting your imagination take over as your hand pumps your dick steadily. In your mind, you’re seeing all those hot men in front of you again. You’re examining their chests, their bodies. Slowly but surely, those toned men get replaced by images of John, your best friend. It’s a bit of surprise, but you don’t stop. While you have the biggest crush on the kid, you’ve never masturbated while thinking about him. Just once wouldn’t hurt...

But it would hurt. You’d look at him differently. In the morning, your mind would have trouble trying to figure out what happened in your tired mind the night before and all it will be able to piece together is hand on dick and thoughts of John. That will make getting over your little itty bitty crush harder.

You slowly pull your hand out of your boxers, ashamed with yourself, and shut your computer. You can edit the rest of the pictures later, when you won’t accidentally start jacking off to the thought of your best friend.

Needlessly to say, you fall into a troubled sleep shortly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with how this chapter came out and how long it is! Wow, Gold Rush baby, you're doing good.


End file.
